A bottle full of Dreams
by Pepita Moonwheeler
Summary: There was a little girl who left her side of story untold.


She was once eleven, standing on the brink of hoplessness and cradling to her heart a small bottle that contained her desired dreams.

And for many years she stood there, watching with pained agony as the dim pond swallowed the little bottle she had cast. Watching, transfixed at how she let them be buried under a cloud of pond rubish, when they were supposed to be in the comfort of his smooth hands. Watching, because that was all she could do anyway, just watch...

Watch as he boarded the train, her two-dimensional hero and his three-dimensional self, his beautiful green eyes so steady yet so unsure. And how she ached for him like that, because that was how he was in her fantasies--unlikely. Watch, as he passed her by the hallway, minutes away from that raucous runt of a cupid, unabashedly singing at the top of his lungs her devotions that she secretly hid in inhibition. Watch, as he made a foolish attempt to pull the corners of his mouth into a smile but all it could unfortunately muster was a twisted expression, for the girl with silky hair and coquettish dark eyes as she passed by. Watch, as he shivered in the darkness, cold and alone from the nightmares that beleagured him. Watch, as he drifted away from her, lost in the tide of people with their venerating mouths washing over him their words of awe. Watch, as he became the only star above her.

And how she reached for him, her hands wanting to touch even a sliver of his golden light and feel how it is to mingle with just a fiber of him. But she could never; her Gryffindor courage failed her because there was an emotion that went beyond her senses, that gripped her in fear, a fear that had kept her repressed and waiting.

She tried to understand it, tried to consult every book and every wisdom in existence to quantify and qualify its nature, but it all the more left her confused. It was not the traitorous desire she thought it was, because desire never burned this long and never consumed like one insatiable. And oh, she was not sure of longing, because longing, albeit it paints daydreams and sketches fantasies, never elicited tears to fall from whence it was cradled.

But like the doll she had boxed up and forgotten, those emotions spent over him were overriden by the deluge of saccharine poetry and the promises of clasped hands, protective embraces and mouths that said eternity. And she was taken with it; reposed with the whirlwind of colors that they painted her with. But they had never made her long for them in the same way she longed for him and she tried so hard to make them, but they only shook their heads in apprehension. It was then that she realized how blindedly she was taken to play their fantasy, and it burned her to know that they would never play hers.

They never untied her from where she was kept prison.

By now she had lost all interest to want another, because she had wanted so much that she couldn't want anymore. All the unfulfilled longing has left her drained and she felt it punishing to succumb to them once more.

But then he came.

The one she could never reach and tried desperately to, came down from where he was and was now trying in the same vein of desperation to reach her. She never did notice until that fated moment when she ran into his arms drugged with exuberance to tell him about that exhilirating quidditch match he missed when he caught her like a fish without air unable to restrain and kissed her.

Kissed her and unbounded her as the others before him were unable to. Kissed her and made every promise that were offered to her a glorious reality and not just a whirlwind of excitement for her to feel. Kissed her, and it was then in his arms that she realized that she loved him, oh, heavens she really did.

And she fought so hard against self-control to say it, but his damn smile, damned her into muteness; a muteness that was like a charm.

A charm that was unable to tell him all that she had wanted to say, a charm that put to rest her babblings, a charm that was only loosened when he was deaf to her--sleeping on her lap and dreaming, while she sat there hoping that it was her he was dreaming about.

And up to the day he turns away she still found herself unable to speak and unable to show him the tears that he was so cocksure would never rain on her cheeks, but they did and now she was lost without a heaven to cry with.

Because the sun shone brightly that day... Because heaven was too busy welcoming a parade for an angel, that it forgot one groveling one fallen down to earth because... because she fell in love.

At night with no other recourse but to dream, she closes her eyes and feel the weight of the words weave through the cold air like a haunting lullaby.

IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouILOVEYOUYoulovemeDoyouAreyourdreamsheavyofmelikemineareofyouDOYOULOVEMELIKEILOVEYOUKissmeWoundyourarmsaroundmeIneedyouIDESPERATELYDOImissyouI'llmissyouI'msodruggedwithorwithoutyouILOVEYOUILOVEYOUILOVEYOUOHHARRYIREALLYDO...

What becomes of the girl so desperately stuck with nothing to hold onto?

She becomes a woman, a woman all of sixteen years, still standing there at the edge of the lake, already fallen to hoplessness and aching to reach out to him in letters letters that she had written him long ago, letters that sunk to gunk of the lake bed, her hands cradling nothing near to her heart anymore.

And how she mourned for those dreams and how she paid for handing those dreams to a fairytale that never was and never will be...

I feel her pain come alive again.

Because I wrote those letters, because I dreamed those dreams, because I believed in those fairytales, because I loved as she loved and because I AM HER.

I am Ginny, and that is all that is left of me. 


End file.
